


Thicker Than Water

by Lexie



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-23
Updated: 2012-08-23
Packaged: 2017-11-12 18:17:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/494231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexie/pseuds/Lexie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The holidays can be easy or they can be fraught, Blaine finds, especially when you're intending to spend the rest of your life with your high school boyfriend and your family tilts toward the dysfunctional end of the scale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thicker Than Water

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moongirl24](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moongirl24/gifts).



> With thanks to [msmoocow](http://archiveofourown.org/users/msmoocow/pseuds/msmoocow) for her Broadway expertise. There are no spoilers beyond the s3 finale; everything set in the future is pure speculation!

**November 2011**

Blaine winds up at Kurt's house for Thanksgiving.

It wasn't the original plan, but when Carole overheard him commiserating with Sam over missing Thanksgiving (Sam due to distance, and Blaine because his family is having Thanksgiving dinner three days early, with his parents both on-call at the hospital on the actual day), she insisted.

Honestly, Blaine wasn't completely sure what to expect. He's at the house all the time but he's never attended a major family celebration or a holiday before. From what Kurt has said, most of the family's living relatives come from Carole and Finn's side. Kurt himself doesn't seem to fully know what to expect; he has only met some of these people once or twice, between the wedding and last year's holidays.

But Blaine is really honored to be included. He loves being around Kurt's family. He's happy to be invited to a warm dinner instead of spending the day reheating leftovers and working on a book report. Maybe most of all, it feels incredibly special and serious and grown-up to be included in Kurt's family holiday.

It takes a half an hour for him to finish icing the cookies he'd insisted on bringing, and then an hour to decide on the right bow tie.

When he stops at the Hummels' front door, he takes a deep breath, looks down at his loafers on the freshly shoveled and sanded steps, and reaches for the bell -- then the door swings open.

"Blaine! We were starting to get worried with all that ice," says Carole, smiling at him. Blaine is pretty sure Kurt picked out that dress, both from the general look of it and from the gleam in Kurt's eye last week when he'd said Carole had agreed to a family-bonding shopping trip for a "congressman's wife appearances" wardrobe. She steps to the side.

"The roads were a little slippery, but not bad," he assures her, stepping in so she can close the door behind him. "I hope it's okay that I parked in front of your neighbors' house."

Carole leans around him and peers out through the window, while Blaine unwinds his scarf from around his neck and toes off his wet shoes. "Oh, Jim and Rochelle's?" she says. "Jim has been tanked and yelling at the Lions game for two hours." As if on cue, a collective shout goes up from the living room. "They'll never even notice."

He smiles back at her. "I know you said all I should bring was myself, but..." He offers her the covered cookie tin; she laughs and takes it.

"If these are anything like those oatmeal chocolate chip cookies you left here last month, Finn is going to go through them in about ten seconds flat. We always need more dessert with all you boys around; thank you."

"Eating them _is_ the only thing better than baking them," Blaine says, tucking his coat over his arm.

"There'll be plenty of that today. Come on in, we'll introduce you around." Hand on his arm, Carole shepherds him out of the front entrance and into the warm living room, which smells incredible. Burt, Finn, Sam, Rory, and a dozen or so unfamiliar people are gathered around the TV, some intently watching the game and others chatting. Two toddlers are crawling around on a blanket spread out on the floor and are conducting what looks like an epic Matchbox car battle. It's a homey scene.

"Blaine," Carole says, stopping just behind the sofa with her hand still resting on his shoulder, "this is," and then she introduces them all; too many at once for Blaine to remember, though he gets the general idea. Carole's sister and her husband and kids, several sets of neighbors, Finn's grandmother, one of Burt's mechanics and his wife, Kurt's Great Aunt Mildred... "Everybody, this is Blaine, Kurt's boyfriend."

"Are those cookies?" Finn says over the general rumble of hellos. His face has lit up.

"--Uh, yeah," Blaine says, still not totally used to everything being cool with Finn again. "Sugar cookies with vanilla-lemon frosting."

"Oh man," says Finn, and his mom says, " _After_ dinner, Finn, after dinner," to laughs.

"I think Kurt's still upstairs, Blaine, if you want to leave your coat in his room." The nice thing, Blaine thinks, is that Carole actually means it; it's not a dismissal.

He smiles at her and says, "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," and he leaves behind the living room full of people yelling at the quarterback, so he can jog upstairs. He pauses in the doorway to Kurt's room. Kurt is sitting at his vanity, iTunes window open on the laptop in front of him. Blaine smiles and clears his throat while lightly tapping on the door.

Kurt turns around. Blaine will never get used to the way Kurt smiles when he first sees him. "Well," Kurt says, "aren't you a sight for sore eyes." He's wearing these complicated-looking pants and the eBay-find sweater that he's been gloating over for weeks, with an oxford shirt and a blue studded bowtie peeking out at the collar, and an apron over the whole thing. "When did you get here?"

"Just now," Blaine says, padding over to drop his coat and scarf on top of the pile on Kurt's bed, then continues on to put his hand on the back of Kurt's chair. He leans down to squeeze his shoulder and peer at the screen. "What're you doing?"

"Carole decreed that the kitchen needed more music," Kurt says, clicking and dragging several tracks onto the playlist marked DAD ONLY GETS ONE SERVING OF DESSERT. "She's the czarina of Thanksgiving, and her wish is my command."

Blaine laughs. "All she needs is your big furry hat."

"With a floral print dress? Please," Kurt scoffs, but in the arch way that Blaine always loves because he knows Kurt is playing.

"I think she'd be cute," he says, grinning enormously now.

Kurt glances over at him, smiling back. "You think Rachel's animal print sweaters are cute."

"I think _you're_ cute," he points out, and he bats his eyelashes.

Kurt huffs a startled, pleased laugh. "Well, if you're going to resort to flattery..."

Blaine feels like his face might crack with the force of his smile.

Carole is surprised and deeply amused to be presented with Kurt's vintage fur hat, but she takes both the hat and her czarina title with gusto after it's been explained to her. Her Russian accent is like something out of a terrible 1960s pulp movie with a mad scientist villain. Over the course of dinner, Kurt is forced to admit that Blaine was right -- it _is_ adorable.

Between Carole's accent, Sam's immediate adoption of a much better one (and his refusal to speak in his own voice for the rest of the meal), and the general din of a meal with about 20 people, dinner is raucous and funny and _loud_ , all good-natured teasing and warmth. The closest thing to anyone saying grace before they eat comes when Burt thanks everyone for being there, says he's got a lot to be thankful for this year, and tells everyone to dig in.

Blaine is hyper-vigilant at first, keenly aware of -- and ready to be painfully, perfectly polite in reply to -- every glance at him and Kurt, but he very quickly gets sucked into two conversations at once, between Rory and Sam debating something about elves and Kurt rolling his eyes over a regular customer's antics with one of Burt's mechanics, and then Blaine gets distracted playing peekaboo with the toddler across the table. He's working his way through his second piece of pumpkin pie, trying to laugh around a fork full of pie crust without choking or spitting crumbs across the table when it finally sinks in: the silent disapproval he's been automatically expecting isn't coming.

Blaine lets that sit for a minute, while Finn and Kurt cheerfully bicker over his head about who's doing the dishes. Down the table, Carole has apparently decided that the no-hats-at-the-table rule only applies to baseball caps, because Burt is wearing Kurt's furry hat with an expression that looks half bemused and half resigned while Carole and several other guests laugh fit to bust and Jim-from-next-door takes a picture with his cell phone. Everyone is happy. _Blaine_ is happy.

Blaine chews and swallows, and lowers his hand from his face while pulling an exaggerated grimace. Carole's niece gurgles with laughter at him and happily bangs her tiny fists on the tray of her high chair.

* * *

**December 2011**

"Are we going to talk about this afternoon?" Blaine asks, and Kurt doesn't look away from his thoughtful perusal of the Lima Bean specials board.

"What about this afternoon?" he asks distantly. He's getting a peppermint mocha, Blaine already knows; Blaine should get something that'll taste nice with it. They have a makeout session scheduled this afternoon.

"You thought I was giving you an engagement ring for Christmas."

Kurt starts at that and looks over at him. It takes him a second to shuffle forward in the line with Blaine. "You handed me a ring box," he protests, but he looks embarrassed. "I don't know what you expected me to think."

"I _didn't_ expect that you'd suggest eloping in Central Park," Blaine says, and Kurt opens his mouth, then steps up to the counter and says, "One large peppermint mocha and a lemon cookie, please, and he'll have--"

"The gingerbread latte; a medium."

Bored, the barista says, "Names?"

"Kurt and Blaine."

"That'll be $5.62."

Kurt stays Blaine's arm when he goes to reach for his wallet from his bag. "Consider it my treat," he says, handing the cashier a bill and then accepting his change. He slides down the counter to wait for their drinks, and Blaine, recognizing a 'we'll talk about it when we're alone' deflect when he sees one, follows. He grabs a few packets of cinnamon and sugar from the to-go station.

By the time Blaine has collected two paper sleeves and some napkins, Kurt is sipping from the cup marked 'Curt' -- then grimacing and offering it to Blaine, who takes it and sniffs at it to confirm that yes, it is his gingerbread latte.

"Do you think they'll ever figure out which one of us is which?"

"No," Kurt says darkly, taking the paper bag with their cookie.

Blaine lets his hand bump the back of Kurt's, on the way out to the parking lot. Kurt smiles at him, and Blaine thinks, _he said he wanted to marry me_ , and smiles back.

"I said some hasty things this afternoon," Kurt says, as soon as Blaine pulls his mom's Volvo out of the Lima Bean lot.

Blaine agrees, "You did." Stopping at the red light, he looks over at Kurt. "I liked them."

Kurt looks like his first instinct is to smile but he isn't quite sure what to do with that information. "You did?"

"I mean -- I don't feel ready to get married right now, at all, so if that's something you actually want to do then we should talk about it--"

"No," Kurt says, fervent. "God, no."

"--But I--" He stops. "Can we talk about this when we get to my house? I want to look at you, not these kids." There are two of them, sitting in rear-facing seats installed in the hatchback of the station wagon in front of them. Both girls are waving and making monster faces. Blaine waves back.

"As long as whatever you're going to say isn't bad," Kurt says warily, and Blaine glances over at that.

"No," he promises. "It's nothing bad; just about how much I love you."

"Well," says Kurt, sounding mollified. "All right then," and he takes a bite of cookie.

"What I wanted to say," Blaine says, once they've tossed empty coffee cups and shed winter layers and are sitting together on his bed, "is that I know you're the one for me, Kurt, and I liked hearing that you felt the same way." He pauses, because that seems like a huge assumption to make, and adds, "I mean, if you--"

Kurt teaches out and takes both his hands. "You _know_ that I feel the same way," he says fiercely. "You're going to come to New York next year and we're going to take the city by storm in our chosen fields, and then, at some nebulous point after college and before I'm 30 but definitely not tomorrow or in Central Park, we're going to get married. Legally."

He finally lets his giddy smile stretch the way he's been wanting it to for the last few hours; so wide that his cheeks hurt. "Okay," he says. He lets himself think about it for a minute -- moving into a tiny beautiful apartment together; holding Kurt's hand standing up in front of everyone they know and love; honeymooning somewhere that's warm enough that he can coax Kurt into going snorkeling with him; maybe someday chasing one or two immaculately-dressed kids around a living room, if that's something that Blaine decides he wants (he's still not sure) and Kurt agrees...

Kurt eyes him. "What?"

"You thought I was proposing, and you said _yes_ ," Blaine says. Just because it was a little awkward and he wouldn't have actually proposed doesn't make Kurt's jubilant yes any less adorable or meaningful.

"Blaine," says Kurt, after a moment. "Now."

It takes Blaine a long moment to get it. "Now?" he asks, eyebrows raised, with a light questioning tap of his finger against the corner of his own mouth.

Kurt shoots him an impatient look and leans in, saying, "You did make a promise," and Blaine surges forward the rest of the way. Kurt is smiling against his mouth and tastes like peppermint and coffee and sugar -- then he's laughing and pulling Blaine down as Blaine enthusiastically pushes him back into the pillows.

* * *

**December 2012**

Blaine takes a fortifying deep breath and says, "So I was thinking I'd invite some friends from glee to the Christmas party," into the breakfast silence.

His mom glances up from her oatmeal. "That sounds nice, honey," she says. "I just need a rough head count for planning."

"Kurt, obviously," he says, without looking away from Mom, "and Tina, and Mike while he's back from Chicago, plus Artie, Sam, Mercedes, and Rachel." There are other options, of course, but Finn and Rachel are still way too dramatic to be put in a room together, Blaine doesn't know any of the new kids well yet, he never knew Quinn very well at all, and he just isn't ready for his parents to come into contact with Puck, Santana, Brittany, or Sugar. He doesn't think he'll ever be ready for that.

Blaine is aware that his dad started paying attention to this conversation the moment that Kurt's name was said. Blaine doesn't look across the counter, but he can feel his dad's eyes on him. He sits up straighter, shoulders pinned back tightly. "I know it's a lot, but they probably won't all be able to make it, and--"

"It's not a lot," Mom assures him. "I'm sure we'll have more than enough chips and dip for a few more teenagers."

"It's a good idea," says his dad brusquely, and Blaine turns to stare at him. "I always had the impression that you kids get bored at the party; fresh blood will liven things up." He lifts a finger to his iPad, probably turning the page of the _Washington Times_.

Blaine feels his mouth open and close a couple of times. He had all of these talking points ready -- about how the annual Anderson family Christmas Eve party is for people who are important in their lives; how he's a member of the family and deserves to be heard, too; how he and Kurt are serious and everyone might as well start getting used to it now; how Cooper brought that woman he'd only been dating for a week, a few years ago, then broke up with her over dinner in front of most of their extended family, the neighbors, his parents' colleagues, and his mom's friends from church, and no one seems to have held a grudge over _that_... And he didn't have to use a single one of those points.

His mom hums lightly and checks her phone, chewing. His dad flicks his finger across his iPad screen again.

Maybe, Blaine thinks, it will actually be that easy.

* * *

Kurt arrives with Rachel, saying something about too many family members who do their Christmas shopping at the last possible moment and not enough cars; Blaine is too distracted by the skinny jeans and gorgeous charcoal shawl-collar sweater that he reveals as he pulls off his coat to hear much of the explanation.

"Rachel, thanks so much for coming," Blaine says, figuring that that will give his brain a moment to recover, while he takes Rachel's capelet and beret.

"Maintaining a close relationship with the people who knew me before I was famous will be a vital part of my post-stardom life," says Rachel, proving that even what has been, by all accounts, an incredibly difficult first semester of college in New York can't keep Rachel Berry down. She smiles enormously at him and catches him in a spontaneous hug while he's still putting her things on a hanger. "It's wonderful to see you in person, Blaine." For such a tiny person, Rachel gives _seriously_ strong hugs.

"You mean interrupting our Skype chats on a weekly basis hasn't been enough face-time for you?" Kurt drawls from behind her.

"I'm always happy to talk to Rachel," Blaine says, before this can devolve into another Rachel vs. Kurt bickering match. "Although it _would_ be nice if she knocked on your door."

"I have learned my lesson," Rachel says solemnly, holding up her hand in some kind of 'I'll never interrupt your Skype sex again' pledge. "Knock first, enter with unsurprising but excellent news about my Movement for the Stage 101 grade second."

Laughing softly, Blaine hangs her winter clothes in the closet. Kurt squeezes his own things in on the rack beside hers, and then Blaine finally gets a good look at him. "Hi," he says. It feels a little shy, even though they saw each other when Kurt first got home yesterday afternoon; like they're still feeling each other out and getting used to being near each other again. Kurt's smiling at him, though, eyes shining, so it's not a bad thing.

"Hi," Kurt says.

Blaine lightly touches his elbow and leans in to press the briefest of kisses to the corner of his mouth. "You look fantastic. Is that Thom Browne?"

"Yes," Rachel says. "He got his hands on it through his internship and hasn't stopped talking about it for two weeks."

"Like you ever stop talking about the time you thought you saw Reeve Carney at the gym," Kurt retorts. " _Reeve Carney_ , Rachel."

The doorbell rings. Blaine says, "Hang on; I'll be right back," and goes to the front door to find Tina standing there smiling.

"Blaine!" She hugs him and he grins and hugs her back. "Merry almost-Christmas!"

"Merry almost-Christmas to you, too! I'm glad you could come; I know everybody else had to be with their families tonight."

"That's the bright side of being half-Jewish," Tina says cheerfully. "Hanukkah _and_ Christmas, and nobody's very intense about either one."

Blaine laughs. "Kurt and Rachel just got here." He steps aside so she can come into the warm front hallway, and she laughs as she wipes her high heels on the mat.

"I know; they came with me," she says. "Finding somewhere to park on your street was kind of a challenge and I didn't want to make them climb out into a snowbank. I would have had to listen to both of them complain about their shoes the whole way home. It looks like half of Lima is here!"

"That's my parents," Blaine says ruefully. "Here, let me take your coat--"

As they cross to the closet, he finds that Kurt and Rachel have waited for him, though Kurt is peering around the corner in the general direction of the roar of mass conversation while Rachel is finishing, " _\--at's_ why you should never eat chocolate before a major performance. Not that I recommend milk chocolate anyway, as I'm experimenting with veganism and I feel very strongly about the plight of dairy cows in the United States--"

"Still Rachel Berry, huh?" Tina asks Blaine, sounding fond, while he puts away her coat.

"I think it's kind of comforting," he says. "I wouldn't want her to be anybody else."

She laughs, but he knows Tina gets it. The newcomers have been really welcome and all bring their own special feeling to glee, but the chorus room just isn't the same without Rachel, Kurt, Mike, and everyone who graduated last year. "Did she tell you we have to leave early? She has a 'Berry Family Christmas Eve Karaoke Tradition,' " Tina says, with finger quotes and all, "to go to and I have to be home for a late family dinner, so we're leaving around seven. I think Kurt was hoping you could drive him home later."

"That's no problem," Blaine says, and he has just led them around the corner when Maria finds them, glass of wine in hand.

" _There_ you are!" she says. "Are these your friends, Blaine? Come on, bring them in--" And then she's using a friendly handshake to draw Rachel further into the living room, while Rachel blinks and looks surprised but goes along with it.

Kurt looks back at Blaine, his eyebrows raised; Blaine winces and makes a drinking motion as they all follow. Aunt Sheryl and Uncle George brought several bottles of wine from California, and Aunt Maria has definitely been appreciating the gesture.

The room looks exactly the way it did when Blaine left it -- people sitting, standing, eating and drinking, and mostly _talking_ everywhere. There are enough of them (from his mom's church, from his parents' work at the hospital, from the neighborhood and visiting relatives and just about everyone else who he thinks his parents have ever met) that he can barely see the familiar living room under them all. Their house is pretty small, and it's just about bursting with people in Christmas sweaters and with noise. Blaine can kind of hear something that's probably Kenny G playing "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" under it all.

Maria has already dropped Rachel's hand and has apparently seen something that she wants to draw Blaine's mom's attention to; she calls, "Nora! Stop cutting cheese cubes for a minute and--" and then she's gone, squeezing through people on her way to the kitchen.

Rachel turns wide eyes on Blaine. "Um," he says. Aunt Maria just turned 21 a few months ago, and she seems like she's still really excited about it. He's about to tactfully explain that when Aunt Sheryl says, "Blaine?" and he realizes that Maria dropped Rachel off right in front of a knot of his dad's family. Aunt Sheryl is making significant eyes at Kurt and the girls, and Blaine straightens up.

"Right -- this is my Aunt Sheryl, Uncle George, and my cousins Margaret and Dillon, from California. Aunt Sheryl, Uncle George--" He leaves his cousins out of it; they're 12 and 14 and look incredibly bored (Margaret is playing a game on her iPhone and barely glances up when her name is said), so he doesn't think it's much of a breach of etiquette. "These are my friends Tina and Rachel, and this," Blaine reaches out and slips his hand into Kurt's, "is my boyfriend, Kurt."

Aunt Sheryl's thick eyebrows shoot up. Uncle George pauses with a glass of wine raised halfway to his mouth. Kurt squeezes Blaine's hand and says, "It's a pleasure to meet you." At his voice, Margaret looks up from her iPhone and Dillon stops trying to pull it away from her.

"It looks like a great party," Tina says awkwardly, when no one says a word in the next three seconds, Blaine's aunt and uncle clearly trying to recover from shock and his cousins not making any attempt to hide the fact that they're staring curiously. Blaine feels like his tongue has thickened in his mouth. "Are you related to Blaine's mom or dad?"

It can't possibly be a genuine question, given the strong Anderson family resemblance between Blaine's dad and Aunt Sheryl. Blaine loves Tina.

"Oh -- Rob is Sheryl's brother," says Uncle George, finally lowering his wine glass. "It's nice to meet all of you."

"I like Kurt's shoes," says Dillon, and he stares back at all of them when they turn to look at him. He glances up at Kurt. "They're Thomas Engel Hart, right?"

"You have an excellent eye for footwear," Kurt says, and Blaine thinks he'd probably be preening in any other situation.

"Dillon loves this stuff; he's much better with it than Maggie or I am," says Aunt Sheryl, and she smiles tentatively at them as Kurt launches into a ferociously fast conversation with Blaine's 12-year-old cousin that even Blaine can barely follow.

And -- it's okay; Blaine thinks it was okay (and that that was lucky, because most of his extended family on his dad's side wouldn't have reacted that way), and this means _they're_ okay.

But he also thinks it means that, despite being in fairly regular contact with his dad, his aunt and uncle had no idea he was gay.

That doesn't bode well.

When they get away, it's Rachel who asks warily, "Blaine, what was that?"

" _Apparently_ my dad leaves some stuff out of his weekly phone calls with Aunt Sheryl," Blaine says. Rachel looks distressed; Tina looks sympathetic. He doesn't turn to glance at Kurt, feeling him squeezing his hand again, hard. "My parents and most of their friends are Republicans, and a lot of people here go to St. Charles with my mom. They'll all be polite, but it might get..." He doesn't really know how to put it. "...awkward."

"We discussed this," Kurt says, to the girls, "in the car."

Tina and Rachel exchange a look. "Tina and I can be excellent awkward-buffers," Rachel says, her eyes big and sincere. "I've been told that I'm _very_ good at bringing a conversation around to new topics."

Blaine had talked this through with Kurt when he'd extended the invitation, explaining what the atmosphere was probably going to be like, and Kurt had immediately agreed to come and to be introduced as his boyfriend anyway. They'd known they were probably going to face their share of less-than-approving looks. Blaine _hadn't_ counted on some family members being completely unaware of Kurt's existence, though, and he also hadn't counted on how sweet and well-meaning his friends are.

When he smiles at Rachel and Tina (who's nodding in agreement), it is fully sincere. "Thank you," he says. "But I hope that won't be n--"

"Blaine, where do you even keep _going_?" demands Aunt Maria, appearing out of nowhere. She has a new glass of wine, and is wearing what Blaine is pretty sure are his mother's reading glasses on top of her chignon. "Now," she plants herself and studies Kurt, Tina, and Rachel, "you must be-- Rachel, Tina," she points at the two girls in the correct order, "and _you_." She pokes her wine glass at Kurt's chest. "You must be Kurt, young man."

Blaine is caught somewhere between wanting to press his face into his hands and then put a stop to this (she is _two years_ older than Kurt) and wanting to laugh so hard that he'll have to sit down.

"It's so nice to finally meet you girls, and the famous boyfriend; Nora has told me _miracles_ about your shrimp puffs," she continues.

"--Oh," Kurt says, blinking. "Thank you." Beat. "I actually brought some; I just forgot them in the car--"

"Take me to your shrimp puffs," Aunt Maria says with deep seriousness, offering Kurt her arm like she's going to escort a debutante to a ball. Kurt looks at her arm, then looks at Blaine.

"Maria, I'm sure Kurt would rather stay inside where it's warm--"

"I have embarrassing stories, Kurt," says Maria. "Lots of them. Baby pictures."

Kurt immediately tucks his arm into hers. "We're going to get the shrimp puffs," he says. Tina snorts and hands him her keys, and then Kurt and Aunt Maria grandly swan out of the room.

"I like her," says Tina, and Rachel is cackling, and Blaine groans.

"Blaine," calls his mom, and then there she is, squeezing between Mrs. Harrison and her son, and looking harried. "--Tina, it's so nice to see you again; we're so happy you could be here. And this must be Rachel." She offers a hand, which Rachel shakes.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mrs. Anderson," says Rachel, and then her head cocks to one side as if she's listening to something. "Are you playing 'A Christmas Album,' Barbra Streisand's best-selling seminal collection of seasonal classics?"

"Uh," says Blaine's mother. "Probably, yes; I think there's a playlist on shuffle--"

"I've never heard this particular vocal," Rachel says. "Do you know when it was recorded?"

"I don't know, but the iPod is connected to the stereo system," says Mom, looking even more dubious as she points to the entertainment cabinet behind a group of neighbors; "go right ahead," and Rachel beams at her, with a quick glance at Blaine as if to reassure herself that he's fine and not in need of her buffering skills at the moment, and heads across the room.

His mom blinks, then seems to gather herself again. "Honey, have you seen Maria?" Blaine can tell there's more that she wants to say on the subject of her little sister, but is holding back while Tina is there.

"She and Kurt just went to get shrimp puffs out of the car," Blaine says. He tries not to complain: "She said she was going to show him baby pictures."

Mom looks like she's struggling not to laugh, suddenly. "Send her my way when she comes back in," she says. "We'll try to save you some embarrassment, okay?"

Blaine registers Cooper's voice from across the room. He sighs. "It's probably too late for that."

From the wry turn that his mom's face takes, he thinks she just heard Coop, too.

* * *

"Blaine," says his dad, later. "Come here and say hello to your godfather." His hand feels heavy on Blaine's shoulder.

Blaine feels the beginnings of something bitter and furious finally starting to simmer low in his stomach. He takes a deep breath, exhales, and says politely, "Kurt and I just started talking t--"

"I'm sure Mrs. Simpson can spare you for a minute," says his dad, smiling at Mrs. Simpson, and he's stepping away with his hand still on Blaine's shoulder before Blaine can reach out and grab Kurt's hand the way he did the _last_ time his dad did this, ten minutes ago. Blaine helplessly catches Kurt's eye as he goes, and Kurt -- caught in a conversation about Mrs. Simpson's daughter who works as a ticket collector at Grand Central Station -- gives him a nod, his stiffly polite face on.

Blaine breathes in and goes to greet his dad's best friend and his wife.

"Look at this! You're growing up fast; finally getting that growth spurt, huh?" says Gary, pumping his hand, and Blaine feels the brittleness in his own smile.

"I guess so!" he says, as brightly as he can. "Hi Gary, hi Nat."

"You look dashing, Blaine," says Nat, smiling at him. "You must be popular with the ladies; your dad said you're at a coed public school now."

"Uh, yeah," he says, his chest growing tighter. "But I--"

And this is what he has always hated about the Prendergasts, even when he was a kid: they're human steamrollers. "Those two girls who were here earlier were adorable -- was one of them your girlfriend?"

Blaine feels hot, then cold, then hot again. He doesn't look at his dad. "No," he says. "Tina and Rachel are just friends. Kurt--" and he twists around and points at where Kurt is standing 20 feet away, tall and unmistakable in his gorgeous outfit and highlighted hair, his expression barely concealed mutiny as Mrs. Simpson talks, "is my boyfriend. We've been together since I was a sophomore. I guess Dad forgot to mention that I'm _really_ gay."

He feels like he's run a marathon, his hands shaking at his sides with how angry he is. Gary is blinking. To her credit, Nat recovers fast enough to say, "Well. He's a handsome boy."

"It's nice to see you; enjoy the party," Blaine says through his teeth, and, still not looking at his dad, he goes back toward Kurt. Behind him, his dad says, "Blaine," and Gary is quietly asking, "--said it was just a phase?"

Blaine hears a ringing in his ears. He keeps his eyes on Kurt and keeps walking. Everyone in Bellefontaine knew about it when Blaine and Jerome were beaten outside the Sadie Hawkins dance four years ago; Nat and Gary especially, Blaine _knows_ they know, they visited him in the hospital and signed his cast, and apparently his dad has been explaining it by saying it was a _phase_?

He wants to show _him_ a phase.

As tempting as the idea of grabbing Kurt and planting a kiss on him is, though, Blaine knows he won't do that. Not in front of a crowd like this, and not to Kurt. He may not fully know what he's going to do when he reaches Kurt, but he would never use their relationship as ammunition in a fight with his dad.

Kurt raises his head as Blaine approaches, and his expression shifts from polite boredom to wide-eyed so fast that Blaine knows his feelings must be showing all over his face. With a monumental effort, he draws up a smile.

"Sorry about the interruption," he says to Mrs. Simpson. He steps in close against Kurt's side, their arms pressed together, and grabs his hand for dear life. "What were you talking about?"

Kurt holds his hand tightly. "Mrs. Simpson was telling me all about the Sunday sermon at your mom's church," he says, looking strained.

Blaine has spent several years priding himself on his ability to maintain his composure, but he has had enough. This is enough. He isn't a Dalton man anymore -- he doesn't want to be, for one thing, after what happened in February, and for another, he knows now that he doesn't have to be perfectly-on-point-polite-Blaine all the time; Kurt and the New Directions have helped him with that.

"Oh?" Blaine says, "she did?" and Mrs. Simpson, apparently not recognizing his dark tone for what it is, opens her mouth -- and then someone who smells like expensive cologne looms over Blaine and Kurt from behind and drapes an arm over each of their shoulders.

"Mrs. _Simpson_ ," says Cooper, all flirt, and Mrs. Simpson brightens up and giggles, actually _giggles_. "You're looking ravishing this evening, and not a day older than when I used to mow your lawn."

The pressure in Blaine's chest eases, just a little. " _I_ mowed her lawn," he mutters to Kurt, who squeezes his hand again.

"You'll excuse us, of course; Blaine's mom needs a hand in the kitchen and, silly me, I volunteered these guys," Cooper continues with the charm offensive.

"Oh," says Mrs. Simpson, straightening up and looking like she's about to put her drink down, "I'm sure I could--"

"That's such a thoughtful offer! It reminds me of the time I almost lunched with half the Spice Girls. Wait here for a minute and I'll be back to tell you _all_ about it." Without giving her time to reply, Cooper turns away, dragging Blaine and Kurt with him. Blaine isn't sure he has ever loved Cooper as much as he does in this moment. He's so grateful and overwhelmed with surprise for a minute that it feels like something is squeezing around his heart.

"You owe me, little brother," Cooper says, low, as they head toward the kitchen, Cooper still flashing a megawatt smile at anyone in their path. "I'm taking a cougar bullet for you here."

"I'm pretty sure this is just settling the score for all the times you made _me_ mow her lawn, then kept her money for yourself," Blaine says, because love doesn't mean accepting Cooper's warped revisionist history.

"I was teaching you the value of entrepreneurship," he says easily.

"I was eight!"

Cooper ignores him, leading them into the kitchen. Mom is standing with her back to them, washing something in the sink. "I expect you to remember this when you get your first big TV part and they tell you that they're casting your devastatingly attractive younger brother," he says, then claps them both on the shoulder and sweeps back into the living room.

" _Younger_ brother?" Blaine says incredulously to Kurt.

Mom turns around, dishtowel in hand, and the inquisitive look on her face drops into something flatter as she takes in the two of them. "Blaine?"

"We're going to Kurt's for a while," Blaine says, and Kurt shifts his weight beside him but doesn't contradict him. "Unless you need help with anything."

There's a long moment where Mom looks at him and Blaine isn't sure what she's going to say; she's kind of the family wild card like that, which is especially impressive in a family that contains Cooper. Then she says, "No, no, you boys go," and she _does_ surprise him -- she steps up and hugs him.

Blaine can feel her dishwashing gloves soaking through the back of his cardigan and shirt, but he doesn't care. He tucks his face down into her shoulder and hugs back, too tight and too long for either of them to pretend this is a casual moment. "We'll talk later tonight or tomorrow," his mom says, half a promise and half a threat. "Whenever you want. Okay?"

"Okay," Blaine says into her shoulder, his eyes prickling. Mom steps back and lightly brushes imaginary lint off his shoulders with her damp hands, then turns to Kurt. "Kurt, I am so glad that you were able to come with Blaine; thank you for bringing the shrimp puffs."

"Thank you for inviting me; it's a beautiful party," Kurt says. Mom leans up on her toes and kisses his cheek, then pats his shoulder. Blaine knows that Kurt is startled and touched by the gestures when he doesn't so much as blink at her touching his sweater with a soapy glove. Blaine is startled and touched, too, even if it does feel like overcompensating, his mom trying to make up for his dad.

"Come over anytime," she tells Kurt fiercely, and Blaine, overwhelmed, says, "Bye Mom" and makes his escape, lightly pulling Kurt by the hand to go collect their coats from the hall closet and then go out the back door.

It's cold outside; the kind of cold where Blaine's exposed skin immediately starts stinging and the air feels heavy and expectant with oncoming snow.

"Blaine," Kurt says from behind him, and Blaine stops furiously crunching through the path that he shoveled last night, and turns. Kurt is struggling to simultaneously walk and button up his coat. Struck by guilt, Blaine steps back toward him and gently pulls Kurt's dangling scarf up over the lower half of his face. The cable knit is soft against his cold hands.

"Sorry," he says; "I'm really sorry, I just had to get out of there."

Kurt pushes his scarf back down below his mouth so he can talk. "You'll notice I'm not complaining," he says, and Blaine shuts his eyes and snorts a laugh under the glow of the Christmas lights in his parents' side yard. He opens his eyes again when he feels Kurt stuffing his beanie on over his ears. "At least _one_ of us remembered that it's ten degrees outside," Kurt says, and he offers Blaine the gloves that he hadn't thought to take from the closet, either.

Blaine smiles at him, more genuinely than he's smiled in hours. Sometimes, the force of how strongly he feels about Kurt still bowls him over, even after two years. "What would I do without you?"

"Suffer chapped hands," he says tartly, putting his own gloves on. They look at each other. The animatronic reindeer strung with white lights raises and lowers its head.

"Your dad?" Kurt asks shrewdly.

Blaine nods. "I'm pretty sure my mom figured it out, too."

"That's because your mother has both excellent taste and a sense of how to treat her blood relations." Acidic words aside, Kurt is peering at him with obvious concern. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asks.

"Maybe somewhere that's inside," Blaine says, rubbing his hands together against the chill, and Kurt snorts lightly.

"Did you actually want to come home with me, or was that just to escape from your mother?"

"Oh, god," Blaine says. "I invited myself to your house, on Christmas Eve. That was so--"

"Fine," Kurt interrupts. "Blaine. It's fine. You know you're always welcome at my house, especially during the holidays." He's looking at him steadily; enough that Blaine knows that any more protestations about the rudeness of what he'd done won't be accepted.

"Okay," he says. "Can we please go to your house?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Kurt says, arch, and he grabs Blaine's elbow and tows him along to the car.

Once they're inside, Kurt lets Blaine drive away from the curb and leave the brightly-lit house behind. They're just pulling out of the tangle of suburban streets that make up Blaine's neighborhood when Kurt turns the heat down a notch so he can be heard above the roar of the fans. "What happened with your dad?" he asks, so sympathetic (if not empathetic; Kurt will _never_ fully get Blaine's struggles with his family, which Blaine is both happy about and a little jealous of) that it makes Blaine's throat feel tight again.

Blaine scoffs, knowing that Kurt will know that it's directed at his dad and not at him. He drums his hands on the steering wheel as he pulls up at a stop sign. "Oh, you know," he says. "Bragging about my grades and my extracurriculars all night long, apparently all _year_ long, but one tiny mention of the fact that I have a boyfriend is too much to take." It's a four-way stop and, after a brief double check that no headlights are coming, Blaine rolls the car through it.

"I thought things were getting better," Kurt says.

"Yeah, I thought so too." Just thinking about it is making his face feel hot again, despite how cold his skin still is. "His sister from California had no idea I was gay," he says. "I don't know how he explained the transfer to Dalton but I don't think they even know I was ever in the hospital."

It shouldn't still make him this pissed off, Blaine thinks; he should be used to this kind of behavior by now, or at least resigned to it. Maybe it's good that he isn't -- maybe it means he can still fight to make this better.

"He told his best friend that the whole gay thing was just a phase," he says, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "I thought he was finally starting to accept it, but now-- I don't know." He can do the drive between Kurt's house and his own pretty much on autopilot, even after the three-month break while Kurt has been in New York. This is a long, straight stretch of road. He chances a glance to the side. Kurt is settled in against the passenger-side door, watching him quietly.

"I'm so sorry I got you involved in that," Blaine says, and Kurt furrows his eyebrows. Blaine looks back to the road again. "I was excited to introduce you to Maria and my older cousins and show you off, and -- I wanted them to understand that they're going to see you every year. I really didn't think it would go that badly."

"Blaine," Kurt says slowly. "How badly, exactly, do you think that that went? Mrs. Simpson was on the provincial side, yes, and it was awkward at times with your mom's churchy friends, and your dad is a rampaging ass," (Blaine almost laughs), "but everyone was perfectly polite and we had a good time with the girls, your cousins, and just about everyone who your mother was related to."

He smiles wryly. "It probably helped that they weren't shocked to be introduced to you."

"Isn't that a good thing?" Kurt asks. "Your mom isn't trying to hide that you're gay. And what she said in the kitchen..."

"I know," Blaine says. "She's come a really long way since last year; it's -- it's really good. I just feel bad about subjecting you to Ohio all over again."

To his shock, Kurt laughs. He whips a startled glance at him. "Honey," Kurt says, which still sends a little thrill through Blaine every time, even when he uses it a little condescendingly. " _Clearly_ not everyone in that house was comfortable with me, or with the two of us. But that's not a privilege reserved for a Christmas party on Oak Street; Ohio doesn't have a monopoly on bigots and people who just don't know how to appreciate my _je ne sais quoi_. They're everywhere, including New York. You didn't subject me to anything cruel and/or unusual -- you didn't 'subject' me to anything."

"Everyone should appreciate you," Blaine says, verging on choked, and he has to keep his eyes on the road but he can hear Kurt's in-drawn breath.

"You too," Kurt says, his voice thick, and he reaches out and lightly rests his gloved hand on Blaine's elbow.


End file.
